Regrets? I've Had A Few
by cate's corner
Summary: A tag to 1.10 Heihei. Danny has a lot to talk about. As always, Steve is there to listen. Steve/Danny friendship


I'm really enjoying writing these episode tags - it could get to be a habit!

Heihei aired here last week, and like many writers here, I was intrigued by how it ended. Poor Danny - what must he have been thinking as they left Rachel's house?

Well, this is my idea of what might have happened after that episode ended. I've kept to canon as much as I can, but must admit I don't know, for sure, if Steve is older than Danny or not. The episodes I've seen so far haven't mentioned it officially, although the writers seem to be keeping Steve's age the same as Alex's.

I know in real life that Alex and Scott are the same age, and were born within a day of each other (how freaky is that?) But Steve just strikes me as being very slightly older.

I also know that Steve doesn't meet Danny's brother until episode eighteen. But I'm sure he'll have checked Danny's file before then, and will already know about Matt and the rest of Danny's family.

Oh, and I've mentioned another character from another of my favourite series, just because I'd like to think that Steve might have worked with him during his time with the SEALs. Hm, I might just write a full crossover on that! But for now it's Steve, Danny, and a coolbox on the beach.

I hope you enjoy this latest story.

Regrets? I've Had A Few

In ways that Steve knew he still couldn't imagine, his partner was still a mystery. Hell, there weren't enough geniuses on this planet to figure out Danny Williams.

Well, he conceded, there was one, maybe. That was the best thing about working military intelligence - you made all sorts of useful contacts. Even when you went your separate ways, those contacts usually kept in touch.

So yes, he'd have to call Granger's bluff one of these days, see if the boy wonder that his old Army buddy kept enthusing about was _really_ that smart. Crime-fighting math professors? Jeez, what next? Tap dancing SECNAVs?

Still smiling at the thought, Steve leant over in his chair, using this action of snagging another beer out of the coolbox beside him to sneak a glance at his partner. What he found there filled him with mixed emotions - approval that Danny had now downed enough bottles to relax into a recumbent slouch, and regret for what had caused him to need them in the first place.

In that same moment, Steve realized he knew his partner better than he thought. This was one part of the mystery that he'd solved within minutes of their first meeting. When Danny went this quiet, it meant he was upset. _Really_ upset. That's when he stopped being the snarky boss, and became the supportive friend.

He knew this enforced reunion with Rachel would be hard on him. Until now, Steve hadn't realized how much it would hurt him too. All that time spent with his ex-wife had dredged up so many memories. All the dreams of what might have been.

Thoughts of happier times. Regrets that two people who'd once loved each other so much, so deeply enough to create such a beautiful child, had drifted so bitterly apart.

He was rubbing his hand now. His left hand, as if trying to feel where a gleaming gold ring had once made him so happy. Then, inevitably, reality replaced the memories. The rubbing stopped. Regret that he couldn't hide flashed across his face.

Steve felt himself wince too, in silent sympathy. First Meca's death, just weeks earlier, now this, and… _damn_ it. Danny was the last person in the world who deserved so much pain in so short a time. Even if he never said it aloud, he needed a friend now, to help him through it.

Just as he'd done after Meca's death, Steve had brought him here - back to the house which now felt as much Danny's as it was his. Whether dropping in for breakfast, or just dropping in for the snarking hell of it, he seemed to like it here. And for a die hard city boy who swore blind that he _hated_ the beach, he seemed to find the rhythm of the ocean soothing. Slouched down in his chair, taking the occasional sip from his drink, he seemed almost hypnotized by the rolling waves in front of them.

_Still_ so quiet, though, but Steve knew better than force him into 'the talk' that would bring it all back again. He'd open up eventually, but - no, that would come later. He had to get a few more bottles down him first.

More food to soak up its excesses too, Steve noted, watching another slice of pepperoni lift out from its box. Still watching his friend, the smile _almost_ returned. Pizza and beer. The perfect comfort food.

Just as he'd hoped, this failsafe combination was dulling those painful memories enough to allow him to relax. A couple more bottles, and -

"I think Stan's cheating on Rachel."

'_Yep_, _that_'_s_ _my partner_. _Mr Predictable'_

Choking down his latest mouthful of beer, Steve then glanced across at his friend - the surprise on his face enough of a response for Danny to softly continue.

"I - I know Rachel would never admit it, sure as hell not to me, but… well, he's spending a hell of a lot of time on these business trips. A lot more than he's done in the past, and…"

"…it's left you wondering why," Steve finished for him, meeting a startled '_how-the-hell-did-you-guess_?' stare with a knowingly proud smile. "You've got good instincts, Danny. That's what makes you such a good cop."

An eyebrow rose at that, before Danny squinted suspiciously at the drink in his lap.

"Jeez, am I so drunk on this stuff that I'm hallucinating _compliments_ out of you?"

There was a rueful smile, though, as he said it. Shrugging his shoulders, Steve returned it with an equally familiar smirk.

"Nah, it's the heat getting to you because of _that_," he shot back, pointing at his friend's ever present tie. It was an ongoing battle between them - now seemed a good time to continue it. "I should get you over to the medical centre, see if they can surgically remove it."

"Try it, and _you_'_ll_ be the one needing surgery."

The playful insult was welcome, but the smile on Danny's face hadn't _quite_ reached his eyes. A few moments and sips of beer later, he quietly explained why.

"Damn, that kid was lucky. Not so long ago, a headshot like that would kill you."

Now it was Steve's turn to stare, all teasing forgotten, as he studied his friend. Damn, he kept forgetting that. Police work could be just as dangerous as life in the military. As he'd lost friends in combat and covert ops, he knew the same had to apply to Danny too. In uniform or otherwise, cops made cruelly easy targets.

And _this_ cop, he dryly reflected, had a mind like a fritzing pinball machine. His thought processes pinged wildly around it, from all directions, until he felt ready to reveal them.

"Until I saw that kid's wife today, I never realized how hard her life must be. How hard it must be for her, saying goodbye to him each morning, not knowing if he'll come home in one piece. Even come home at all."

Guessing now where this conversation was heading, Steve just nodded. He'd heard Rachel express the same concerns. Seen the fear on her face as she'd watched her ex-husband become trapped by a gang of ruthless killers. And he'd already guessed what was coming next.

"If he's got any sense, he'll get out of that gig right now. Get a nice safe office job instead."

Outwardly, Steve shrugged in response, but kept silent. Inwardly, he smiled in relief and satisfaction. Yes, _now_ they were getting to it. They were finally getting to the point that Danny had fought for years to avoid, and now been forced to confront.

Slowly though, Steven. Slowly, slowly.

"I'd imagine Camille will suggest that to him herself," he said at last, studying Danny's face for his reaction, and letting his smile widen, in relief, for the calm nod of agreement that answered him.

"Yeah, I hope he listens to her," Danny agreed quietly, the regret in a silent _'like I should have done' _still so obvious that Steve reached across to gently squeeze his shoulder.

That was something he admired, so much, about his partner. Whatever life threw at him, Danny Williams met it, head on, with unshakeable honesty. Yes, it had taken a near tragedy, and his own close call, to make him confront it, but now that he had - yes, he could see in Danny's eyes now, that he'd realized _why_ his marriage had failed.

There'd been fault on _his_ side too, as well as Rachel's. Their fiery tempers hadn't helped either, and Steve could easily imagine how messy their divorce had been. But now, for the first time in too long a time, the dust was starting to settle. Childish sniping had been replaced by civil, sensible talking.

And, to Steve's amusement, Danny still carried a torch for his ex-wife that made the Olympic symbol look like a matchstick.

"You know I'm not one for melodramatics, but when I was trapped in that house… yeah, Rachel saved my life back there. She really came through for me."

"Yeah, that little accident was pretty quick thinking," Steve agreed, guessing from a wry huff of laughter that there was more to it than that, and grinning too as he put two and two intuitively together.

_'Yeah, Granger, I'm pretty good at math too-_'

This wasn't the first time that she'd used that little trick. And just as she'd done at that fateful first meeting, she'd known _exactly_ what she was doing.

Judging by the rueful look on Danny's face, he'd only just learned how resourceful his ex wife had been. Those famous instincts had clearly been a bit off that day - thrown, no doubt, by smitten chivalry, batting eyelashes, and that really nice tushie.

On more serious issues, though, especially if they involved his family, they were right on the money - a quiet voice bringing them back to the dilemma that had started this discussion.

"So what do you think I should do? About Stan and these meetings?"

A pause, before the grin returned to full devilish strength.

"Oh, and if it involves, shark cages, jump leads, or weights, I _really_ won't mind."

Grinning too, Steve then shrugged, keeping his reply nicely balanced between light and deadly.

"You know, I could show you some neat special ops techniques with this," he said at last, gently flicking the end of Danny's tie, enjoying his snigger of approving laughter, before bringing more appropriate seriousness into the mix.

"Trust your instincts, Danny. They've never let you down before. If you think he's doing something that'll hurt her, then yeah - of course you've got to to check into it. Just do it _quietly_."

Danny had clearly realized this himself, since he'd nodded all the way through it. His reply, though, didn't just come from left field, it came from clear outside the stadium.

"Hey, you know me. I'm the king of quiet."

It was a good thing he hadn't been drinking at that moment, or he'd have choked. Instead, Steve studied his friend with three parts disbelief to six parts incredulity.

"Sorry, your majesty, I must have missed that announcement."

A pause. The familiar glare that, Steve now realized, he'd missed so much these last few days. Then, at last, the reply that told him King Daniel Williams was _not_ amused.

"Bite me, heathen serf."

If not for the twitching mouth that so sweetly betrayed him, Steve _might_ have taken him seriously. Instead he grinned through the nonchalant quip that, he knew, would be zinged right back at him.

"Maybe later, when I've had enough beers not to notice."

A threatening growl was a promising sign. And a balled up tie was, as ever, exquisitely aimed. Right on the nose. Literally.

Still grinning as he removed it, Steve started to roll it up again, ready to throw it back – a glance to line up his target causing him to change his mind, and drape it over his leg instead.

Danny's eyes were closed now, his face relaxing into a peaceful smile, his breathing settling out. The time honoured combination of good beer and a good friend had lifted a weight of oppressive emotions from his shoulders. Now he could relax - and catch up on some long overdue sleep.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd crashed out here after a case. Steve knew it wouldn't be the last. And hell, of course he'd tease him about in the morning. But for now he watched, in amused approval, as Danny settled further into his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him.

The sun had fully set now, taking away its warmth, and leaving this deceptive chill in its place. Then again, cooler temperatures would suit this Jersey boy much better than sub tropical heat.

Maybe that was why Danny could still drift to sleep against it, Steve mused, still watching him – part of him envying his friend's comfort as much as the rest of him welcomed its importance.

Within minutes he was out for the count, oblivious to both the cold and quiet chuckles of laughter.

Okay, there was only a few months difference in age between them. And Steve knew that Danny was a _real_ big brother, as opposed to the unofficial honour that he'd inherited. But at times like these – yes, there was no doubt, at least in Steve's mind, over who the little brother was in _this_ family.

Damn, this was priceless. If not for its threat of painful reprisal, he'd catch it on camera, and – nah, maybe not. Dodgy knee or no dodgy knee, his little firecracker of a partner could still kick _serious_ butt.

Instead he rested his head back against his chair and closed his eyes, still smiling as his subconscious joined forces with his mischievous imagination. There were plenty of other ways to make his partner's life hell, and - yeah, by the morning, he'd dream up some doozies.


End file.
